Dear Readers,

First and foremost, my apologies for the lateness. I cannot find time at all for writing these days. This was not an issue for me last year when I had a lot more time, mainly because I was still at college. But my new job is more than a little demanding and saps much of my energy and time.

I did manage however to write this chapter, and will try my level best to ensure that I will update much faster this time. Thank you very much for your patience and faith in my writing. It is appreciated more than you know.

Regards,

Karldin.

CHAPTER 25

Is that Marna, Murtagh?, asked Eragon of his half-brother, as Saphira high in the sky from where a goodly-sized town was barely visible.

Yes it is. I still do not understand why we did not go through the Hardarac Desert, Eragon. Cutting through the desert would have increased our pace considerably; you know how much more vitalized the Dragons are in the desert, said Murtagh, throwing a puzzled glance at Eragon as Thorn rose to fly beside Saphira. Du Weldenvarden stretched out behind them, a hazy blanket of emerald that faded into the horizon. The Dragons made for a stunning sight against the cloudy extent of the forest, their glimmering bodies shining like sculptures of diamonds against the sun. Eragon felt Laetri's consciousness brush against his, and Sahloknir swooped in on Saphira's other flank smoothly.

That would be because Saphira and I will part here, he told all of them gravely. Saphira's glum feelings did not escape his notice, nor did Laetri's forlorn emotions. Sahloknir flew alongside Saphira even as Thorn fell back at Murtagh's direction, and Eragon turned slightly to see the Ruby Dragon rise high in the air to join Belegroch. Firnen who was flying lower than all the other Dragons now rose up to take Thorn's place at Saphira's side, Arya looking uneasy. They had known of his plans ever since they had left Ellesmera. You must not feel discomfited, Arya. I will respect your decision if it is not to part with Firnen, he said to her, knowing the adversity implicit in his plans.

It is…hard, I admit, to even consider this notion. But we must all serve where we are best suited. The support of the Eldest Dragons of our Order will turn the tide of the battle at Teirm, Arya acknowledged after a time of contemplation. Saphira had stopped flight forward now, and the other Dragons followed her lead as she began circling high over Marna to allow the Riders time for their conversation. Sahloknir flew to Saphira's flank once more, and Eragon extended a hand to catch Laetri as she leapt nimbly from her shining gold Dragon onto Saphira. Grasping her arm firmly, he murmured spells of protection and tethering that would ensure her safety upon his Dragon.

I agree with Arya, Eragon-elda. Dragons are far too magnificent to afford us the anonymity we shall be seeking in our search. As much as it pains me, I agree that we should part with Sahloknir here, she said to him. He nodded gratefully, holding her hand as they stood calmly upon Saphira's vast saddle. The other three Dragons swooped low as well, and Eragon caught Arya as she too leapt on to Saphira's saddle to join Eragon.

I shall part with Thorn too, but I will send him to join Nasuada and Palencar. No one else shall I trust to watch over my wife, said Murtagh in a tone that brooked no opposition. Eragon nodded mildly to him, acquiescing unhesitatingly; it was in truth better this way, where they could keep an eye on two crises at once through their partners. Then he finally looked at Ismira, whose long red hair that so resembled her mother's whipped around in the raging winds of their altitude.

Thrysta, he heard Arya's mind proclaim, and watched as Ismira's red tresses went still despite the wind, settling meekly as it was before they left. A convenient weaving of air I discovered with Firnen about fifty years ago. Ancalima the mate of Anurin had transcribed this spell for the female Riders' use, she explained. Eragon nodded in appreciation, and looked at Laetri whose silvery tresses flowed undisturbed to her waist. He knew very well why she was always unaffected by the effects of the sky wind, and wondered if Arya's spell worked the same way.

My earrings bear minor charms to baffle the elements, Arya. He made them for me eight years after we landed on Aiedail, said Laetri as Arya saw in her mind the flow of image and memory in their bond. Recollections of those desperate days flashed through Eragon's mind as he looked at Laetri's sapphire diamond earrings shining in the sunlight.

A simple solution, agreed Arya. Murtagh incanted a spell, the sound of it escaping even their superior elven hearing, thanks to the howling winds.

"I don't like speaking with my mind to anyone except Thorn or Nasuada", growled Murtagh as the wind stilled around them. "Eragon, you told us we would be seeking the Shadow somewhere near Helgrind. You do know that he can travel at will don't you? We cannot truly chase him. In fact, I have half a mind to join Nasuada as she helps our son, instead of involving in your schemes-"

"Murtagh, he will need all the help he needs when he fights the Shadow. I will not leave with you, if you leave now!" cut in Ismira harshly. "My mentor's mastery of the black arts is second to none. I know a few of his tricks…enough to give you an advantage", she said determinedly to Eragon who remained silent, knowing how torn Murtagh truly was at this juncture. He knew just how far Murtagh would go for those he loved for in that aspect they were frighteningly similar. He intertwined his hand with Laetri's as the memory of her most recent ordeal presented itself to him; that had been the second time they had attacked her.

Over a century's time, the bond one person could form with another was beyond conception. Murtagh's feelings for his family were obviously compounded several times thanks to their longevity…losing them now would no doubt be a fatal blow for him. He protects his child just like I do Varda, Eragon thought to Laetri, who nodded ever so slightly.

"Murtagh, I would consider you a friend. Your powers are needed here", said Arya softly. "Palencar is surrounded by an army. He is also aided by a Rider, and now Eragon has sent Nasuada to him. We all know how crafty Nasuada is in battle. It is very unlikely he will lose to an Urgal army. Especially with the aid of Thorn, Belegroch, and Cirnathor, he will have all the assistance he needs."

"You three do not understand the Shadow and his Liutenants like Ismira and I do", Murtagh said heavily, running a hand through his black locks. "If he decides to strike at Palencar or Nasuada, our Dragons cannot stop him. You know this, Thorn!" he shouted to his Dragon who growled menacingly as it flew by. "I have foiled his plans for decades now. He will no doubt want to strike at me through my family!"

"What is it you wish to do, then?", queried Laetri gently. "I know you stay with us because of what remaining loyalty you feel for your brother and Arya, but for the most part you stay for Ismira. You do not trust her with us?"

It seems you have addressed the heart of the issue, Laetri, sighed Eragon, watching Murtagh fall silent at Laetri's question. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he felt saddened by the fact that he and Murtagh had grown so far apart. At one time, they would have died for each other. But that was before Galbatorix got his accursed hands on my brother, thought Eragon, keeping at bay the sorrow with the discipline he had cultivated over a century of effort.

There is nothing he did not taint, it seems, said Arya softly to him as she responded to his mournful feelings by tightening her grip on his hand. Murtagh was merely one of those who took the brunt of Galbatorix's madness, she said, watching with him as Murtagh gathered his thoughts for a suitable reply. Ismira watched Murtagh with an inscrutable expression, but Eragon could see tears in her eyes as she did so. There was history between Murtagh and Ismira he did not know of yet: how they met, why they seemed so close...and most importantly, why the Shadow allowed such a thing.

Secrets within secrets, Laetri said to him as he turned to look at her, At Utgard, I respected Ismira's pledge that those matters had nothing to do with her allegiance to the shadow and did not probe her mind further. I did follow one thread of thought while in her mind…it appears she met Murtagh purely by accident when she was a child of eighteen. She looks up to him as a mixture of brother, friend and father.

"I do not trust anyone with my family, Laetri Svit-Kona. Eragon has his heart in the right place, but he makes far too many foolish mistakes for me to leave Ismira with him", said Murtagh finally, his expression making it clear that he did not quite hold Eragon in the same respect as did the other Riders.

It appears you were right, Eragon-elda. The years have strained your relationship with Murtagh considerably. I think it is wisest to let him do as he wishes…he has been alone far too long for him to work with other Riders, be they family or otherwise, said Laetri as she exchanged glances with Eragon. Eragon felt them speaking to their Dragons privately, and knew they were bidding farewell for the foreseeable future. He said no word to Saphira, for there was little to be said between them as the years went on. Their connection was so deep that not even the ends of the earth could keep their minds apart.

"Do as you wish, brother. I had hoped for you to join me as I hunt for the Shadow, but I understand your want to see to your wife and son's safety. Ismira, what say you?", he asked calmly, looking at the niece who he had healed at the price of a portion his own soul. That spell had been powerful enough to wash away the Shadow's bond with Ismira, but he was still uncertain of its repercussions.

It would be awkward for her to share the same bond with you as we do, said Arya amusedly, and Eragon actually cringed at the thought. Laetri laughed lightly at his discomfiture, drawing curious and irritated glances from Ismira and Murtagh respectively. Ismira thought for a moment more, her distant expression implying she was in communion with Belegroch.

"I will stay with you, Uncle Eragon", she said finally. "Belegroch will join Murtagh in keeping my cousin safe. I can take care of myself, Murtagh. You know that better than anyone", she told the Red Rider at the agitated sound he made. Eragon had rarely seen Murtagh this bothered…the anguish his half-brother was feeling was apparent to him even without Laetri's facility with the pool of minds. We have been circling long enough, Ebrithil. There is a good chance the guards of Marna can catch our shine even at this height, Sahloknir told him, urging him to end this parley. Acknowledging the gold Dragon's words, Eragon decided to end Murtagh's indecision for him.

"I will take care of her, Murtagh. Even if a moment comes where my own strength is insufficient, I will make sure that she will be transported to you. I will even tether the spell to you, if you wish", he offered. Murtagh's expression turned from agitated to considering, and they watched as he turned the idea over in his mind. It is time to 'sweeten the deal' as humans say, Eragon. Tell him you can send him, Thorn and Belegroch to Palencar's camp with your spell, said Saphira.

Does that not tire you, Eragon? Powerful as you may be, it must be exhausting to send two dragons and a human Rider several hundreds of leagues, Arya wondered.

It does tire me, Arya. But what energy I lose is replenished easily thanks to the spirits I assimilated. But even my mind and body cannot take extreme amounts of that process of tiring and rejuvenation. Power like mine is not free, and never comes without fetters, he said to her. He wondered gravely of how Leya fared; he had poured into Aren enormous amounts of his strength, just for such occasion as Leya now faced. He was certain Leya could fend off whatever was thrown at Teirm by the enemy, though he was still concerned of how long she would handle the potent spirit-force he had ensconced in the ring.

Nevertheless, he communicated to Murtagh his offer of instantaneous transportation, and knew the next second that Murtagh had accepted by the minute twitches in his brother's expression. Do not hesitate in ending the Urgals, Saphira, he said to her as Murtagh consulted once more with Thorn. I know I have no right to decide the fate of any race, but I have a duty to protect Alagaesia. If the Urgals cannot be a harmonious part of this continent, they must be excised.

I will do my part, Eragon, replied Saphira solemnly. Sahloknir's fire burns as hot as mine, and the sharpness of Firnen's talons are no lesser than my own. Together no army of Urgals or men can stand against us, unless we are attacked with Gramarye.

Leya will not fail, he said firmly in reply. She is equal to the danger we face, especially with Aren's stores of energy at her command.

I hope so, said Saphira, her melancholia washing over Eragon's mind. The events of the past few months in Alagaesia had changed everything between them once more…along with his healing and tie with Arya had arrived a vista of life he had not quite expected to live. Where once he had almost forgotten what love was, he was now adrift in a sea of it. He could barely even remember the empty sense of duty he used to feel, so complete was his being now even if it the completion was dependent upon Laetri and Arya. Eragon smiled slightly as he recalled sundry Elven poetry where the protagonist proclaimed that he and his mate completed each other.

Stop showing off your knowledge of those delicate little Elven love ballads, Eragon. How you cannot be embarrassed by even knowing of their existence is beyond me, huffed Saphira as Murtagh finished his conference with Thorn and turned to them. I like them, said Eragon in stubborn reply, knowing how silly Saphira had found those ballads; they had argued about it over and over for decades, and now the argument itself had become entertainment for them. Just because you dragons do not have elaborate courting rituals like us, does not mean the concept itself is worthless.

I should dunk you in a lake, Eragon, for insulting my race, growled Saphira. You have my allegiance in this matter, Saphira, said Firnen solemnly as he and Sahloknir swooped over Saphira. And mine, echoed Sahloknir, and the air was filled with the stone-grinding noise that was the laughter of Dragons. Laetri too laughed her clear and melodious laugh, and a moment later Arya burst into a tinkling bout of amusement as well as images of a clueless Eragon being dunked repeatedly into an icy lake came to their minds from their Dragons'.

"Not that I object to that particular idea, but we have decided to accept your offer, Eragon, as I am sure you knew we would", cut in Murtagh. "I have spoken to Ismira and I agree that you would be clueless against the Shadow without one of us there to aid you. You have no idea what it is you face", he said, exchanging glances with Ismira. Eragon nodded…that much was true. His only direct contact with his enemy was when they had touched minds a few days ago after Laetri's incapacitation.

We cannot tarry here any longer, came Laetri's voice, jolting him out of his musings.

"As you say, brother. Be safe", said Eragon sincerely to Murtagh. At Murtagh's short nod and urgings to proceed, he gathered his magic and wove it in a pattern so familiar to him that it was alike to breathing. The skies above Marna flashed a bright indigo as Thorn, Murtagh, and Belegroch all disappeared to their destinations. Be prepared. We may have to fall some distance after I send the Dragons, he told his companions and niece. Are you ready?, he queried the Dragons gravely.

We are, they replied, their voices thrumming in his mind like the after beat of a thousand drums. He extended his free hand for Arya to grasp, and signaled for Ismira to stand closer as he wove his spell once more. Goodbye Saphira, lead them well, he said with some sadness as they were separated from their Dragons after nearly a century of constant togetherness. Even though the indigo flash of light transported the Dragons to Teirm in an instant, leaving Eragon to fall to the ground with the other Riders, he felt no lessening of their bond.

He knew neither Laetri, nor Arya, or even Ismira felt a diminishment of that sacrosanct bond; after all these years, it would take more than a few hundred miles of distance to sever the like of the connections they shared with their Dragons. Should we go directly to Gil'ead?, he asked Arya calmly as they fell rapidly towards the ground from the heights where Dragons flew.

No. They will recognize me, Eragon. Many of the Elvenkind now live there. We must go to the shores of Lake Isenstar some distance from the city, and cloak ourselves carefully with Gramarye that not even Alfakyn will be able to penetrate. If we are to blend into the masses, it will need preparation, said Arya, her green eyes shining as the clouds opened up above them. Eragon reached deep within to the oceans of magic swirling in his being, and cast a spell wordlessly which made them float to the ground rather than fall rapidly.

Are you strong enough to get us there, Uncle? We can still run from Marna, it is not that large a distance, said Ismira, tilting her head to let a bird pass her by.

No, it is far too risky for us to be on the road with no precaution. Eragon-elda's magic is far too prodigious even when willfully concealed; any competent magician could read the signs of our tread upon the land, said Laetri. Eragon inclined his head in agreement. Long ago during the war, Arya had tracked him in the erstwhile Kingdom even when he was many miles within hostile territory. Dismissing the memories of his blunder with Sloan with a deep sigh, he spoke to them.

We must then first adopt a mostly human countenance before we enter Gil'ead as Arya said. Laetri is skilled enough to repel unwanted intrusions from our minds to make it seem we were nothing but mercenaries; none understand the intricacies of the mind-pool like she does. Ismira, you must ever be on guard for the taint of your master; I shall be too, for I am a little familiar with his arts.

To the shores of the Isenstar, then, where we shall make camp and observe the battle at Teirm, said Arya. Eragon nodded once, and clapped his hands to weave the spell one last time. The guards of Marna cast their glances overhead at what appeared to be flashes of Indigo lightning, and frowned for a few moments. Then they shook their heads and returned to their duties, duties that were far more pressing on land than high up where the eagles dove.

…

The sorcerer Styrax was no mere guard of Marna, though he donned the illusion of such attire. The Kingslayer's party has dispersed; he threw the thought with the skill of centuries, knowing it had reached one of his brethren. I traced only the son of Morzan and his Dragon, accompanied by Belegroch, and they have gone to where King Palencar makes his stand. The Dragons Saphira, Firnen and Sahloknir we know went to Teirm. But where went the Kingslayer and his companions? His weaving of the spell this time was as if he could sense my discerning eye upon him.

I expected him to go to Teirm, where I have dangled much bait for him. But again he has slipped past it and sent his strength and Dragons. Styrax, tell Pharazon and the others to leave Teirm. The Rider they fight there is of no consequence, and the trinket she bears is of no concern either.

Are you certain, Ebrithil? What of the Urgals?

I am certain. Let those Urgals dash themselves to death upon the walls of Teirm and burn in the fire of Dragons,came the all-encompassing whisper of the Shadow. Direct the others to assemble at my castle. Sufficient numbers of Urgals are dead for us to begin what comes next.

The Kingslayer still tracks you, Ebrithil.

Let him. Leave Eragon Shur'tugal to me. I will deal with him personally.

As you wish. And what of Laetri? Should I capture her?

The princess I will use when the time is right, Styrax. I miscalculated in using the Enel upon her body; she could not be subverted for she is already bound by soul to one as strong as the Kingslayer. For now, assemble as I have directed.

Very well, Ebrithil said Styrax as he descended the stairs of the citadel. The poor human guards could not penetrate the depths of his expertly cast illusions, and greeted him as if he were their own. He paid them no mind, for he was used to such accomplishments; for centuries he had trodden Alagaesia under his master's command, blending into any race with no effort. If Glaurung had been the Shadow's broadsword, then Styrax was the dirk…the thin poniard that dealt death silently. Hundreds had died by Styrax's hand for his master's cause, without them ever realizing they were being killed.

But the one he hunted now had long been a thorn in their side. Styrax merged into the darkness of an alleyway, unnoticed by even insects or vermin. I am coming for you, Witch, he thought, casting the challenge everywhere in the city. He knew she was here, despite her vexing games. I am coming for you, and after this, you shall not impede our efforts. I will break you, just the way I broke Tengwar your master.

….

Streaks of black fire streaked across Leya's vision, crisscrossing rapidly like smoky webs. Leya's body thrummed with energy as she summoned the power of Aren unto herself to decrease the resistance of the surrounding air. Death evaded her by the breadth of a hair as her body flew parallel to the ground, a lick of her opponent's fire severing a few threads of her slightly askew hair. Blodhgarm's advice saved my life, she thought to Ragnar, shaken slightly by the malice of the magic hurled at her. Some elven instinct had told her the moment she saw the black fires leave her opponents' hands that this was not something that could be stopped by overwhelming strength.

They have skill in their weavings that can only be the result of centuries of experience, Leya. Do not try any counter-spells…hit them as fast and hard as you can, came Ragnar's voice, and she got the image of her Dragon unleashing another torrent of fire into the besieging Urgals. The steely sound of arrows clattering off Ragnar's skin filled her mind for a moment, but Leya landed gracefully upon the field comforted in the knowledge that her Dragon lacked nothing in wards today. You are right. I cannot match them with skill, this one spell taught me that. I must overwhelm them with sheer strength, she thought as she curled her hand into a fist.

"Brisingr!", she shouted, directing the raging spirit-energy of the Lead Rider into the true name of fire. The air heated up around her, the one warning of the spell's effect. The next instant, the air around her turned into a bright curtain of raging gold and blue as a storm of fire erupted outwards from her outstretched hands. Fed by power beyond Riders or Elves, the sheer cacophony of the fiery explosion sent Urgals kneeling to the ground around the combating Rider.

Dusan's spell failed, she thought, watching the Black Riders dodge the spears of fire like rattlesnakes. Their reaction was beyond mere speed…it was as if they had foreseen her spell and arranged to be somewhere else. Deciding to forsake the elven elegance in spell-casting in favour of effectiveness, she raised a hand high into the air with finger pointed upwards. "Sverdar abr Thrysta!", she called out. The air above her turned blue as it solidified to form a massive scythe large enough to cut a young Dragon in two. With a considerable exercise of will, she brought that humungous weapon upon her enemies with a horizontal sweep. Blood and gore showered to the ground as the dozens of Urgals foolish enough to ignore the blade of air got bifurcated. But one of the Black horse riders stepped forward, his profile calm even at the apparently impending death.

"You have not the skill to use magic as we do, Rider, nor the understanding", a fell voice floated out from under the concealing hood. Leya blinked, frozen with surprise as the sorcerer stopped the onset of the massive arcane weapon with a single pointed finger laid on its razor sharp edge. "My master taught Murtagh the same lesson once, a long time ago. Energy is no exclusive prerequisite for casting powerful spells", he said again, and delicately tapped the air-blade in three different places.

These foes are beyond me, she thought with a hint of despair, watching as her spell disintegrated with the rushing sound of solid air losing coherence. A short glance around the field of battle showed a judicious slaughter of the Urgals, fallen by blade and showers of arrows, and by the talons and fire of her dragon Ragnar. But why is it that with such prowess, they do not aid the Urgals? Surely they could have broken the siege despite us she questioned herself and her partner. Ragnar, however, was in no mood to listen to her ponderings as he tore deeper still into the Urgal ranks, carving an inroad large enough to break the siege.

"Brakka du Alfa-kona, Pharazon."

Apprehension shot through her at the words of another Black sorcerer, a companion of the one who had stopped her spell. The other four were standing apart silently; their hands upon the hilts of their grounded swords and standing still like statues of majestic kings bygone. Do not parley with them. It appears they are merely distracting you, advised Ragnar, and she heard his roar as he carried high into the air a drove of screaming Urgals. The siege, it appeared was slowly being repelled by the prowess of Teirm's archers and the ferocity of her Ragnar. She looked balefully at the ones she faced, fortifying herself once more with the power of her Leader's ring.

"You cannot break me as easily as that", she said in a hard voice, the elven blade in her hand glinting in the faint light of the sun. It was merely by the barest flicker of blackness that she was able to react as her opponent appeared in front of her in a flash of dark flame, his sword thrusting towards her heart with preternatural speed. Sparks danced around them and the ground shuddered slightly at the force of the clash, and Leya engaged her opponent with all the skill she could muster.

The other five made no move to attack even as Leya contended with her lone opponent, trying to break his defense and impale him with one fell blow. Violet and dark flashed intermittently in the bloody battlefield as they attempted to outmaneuver each other with the speed of their Gramarye, and the clang of the meeting of their blades was as continuous as rain striking metal. Leya executed a fierce slash at her enemy even as they appeared at the edge of the clearing apparently reserved for them, but was blocked coolly. "Brisingr", she called out again, and the blade burst into golden flame the heat of which singed her even.

"Brisingr", her opponent responded quietly, and black fire erupted around his own blade. The speed with which she was then attacked confounded her, for she had not thought there existed any race that could surpass Elvenkind in sheer physical ability. The black sword of black fire was all she could see, weaving an impassable net of unnerving swordsmanship as she desperately fought for her life. Gold flame met black flame a hundred times in quick succession, and was steadily pushed back.

The more she fought, the more her opponent seemed to gain the upper hand. Again she felt the familiarity of her attacks being predicted, for no slash she executed in whatever involute manner seemed to touch him. "Thrysta!", she shouted as she thrust forward with all her strength, using the strength of Aren to lighten the resistance of air to her body.

But the enemy's reactions were beyond her ability to gauge, as he bent beneath her extended sword in a supremely graceful evasion. In that fraction of an instant she was certain she had attacked with the speed of an arrow loosed from an elven bow, aided by magic. Surprise incapacitated her for a vital instant, allowing her opponent slip smoothly past her guard in a blur of black and lay a hand upon her chest.

"Rusva ambar."

Ancient elvish dialect was all she could think as she sank down to the ground in a haze of pain. Her vision clouded with the sheer agony upon her, and she was certain several of her ribs had been broken inwards with that spell. Leya!, yelled Ragnar, and his roars of outrage echoed through the clamor of the field as he tried to reach her by fire and claw. But this time the Urgal archers acted in concert, forming a veritable wall of army around the Six sorcerers and filling the air with black shafts. Leya's heart burned with sorrow for her Dragon as the Urgal shafts seemed to penetrate even through her warding and pierce Ragnar indiscriminately.

All she could see, however was the red sky above, the crows circling overhead…and her opponent standing gravely with his sword held firmly to her throat. Every time she tried to concentrate, to gather magic, pain would overcome her faculties, pain that she knew would kill her. Her cries were drowned out by the war shouts of the siege, and tears poured down her face as breathing itself seemed to be the most painful task. This was compounded further by Ragnar's pain, and she saw with fading vision her beautiful dragon falling to the ground pierced by cruel Urgal shafts no doubt enchanted with the blackest arts.

"I am Pharazon, Shur'tugal", she heard her opponent say to her in a deep voice, as he spun his black sword. "I cannot be defeated by one as new as you. You fought well, and you will die by my own sword for that", he said, and the point of the black long sword became visible to her as it hovered above her chest. Her shrieks of pain suddenly resumed, and the voiced agony of an elf-maid put a gloom and terror into the air that made even Urgals cringe and pause in their siege.

Ragnar…Ragnar, wake up, she begged, tears washing her face as she felt her Dragon go still from an Urgal spear to the heart. Ragnar, please wake up. You cannot depart without me. RAGNAR!, she screamed out with all her strength, trying to hold on to the departing spirit of her Dragon. The pain of her body was as nothing compared to this loss, the loss of feeling her Dragon go where she could not follow. She did not see or care the black sorcerer's smoking blade point fall towards her heart.

As her vision went dark gradually, and her heart stopped from the flaming blade thrust into it, she wept out her Dragon's name with what remaining strength she could muster. Before she faded fully, she perceived a voice call out calmly to her, and her last sight of the sky was that of sheets of fire obscuring the very sun, falling towards the Urgal army with like the revenge of the gods themselves.

My Eragon's ring will not let you fade to the void, Leya. I will not let you fade into the void, though your Dragon is gone.

…..

It had been a mere couple days since the camp of King Palencar had been stirred into an excited frenzy. Barristan, however, had been more wary than anything. Clearly, his fledgling position of trust with the king could not quite overcome the connection Nasuada Nightstalker had with her son. The Rider sat silently in the tent of command, watching Nasuada calmly explaining her stratagem to the council of generals.

"Facing Urgals in an open field is folly, my lords. I know this for I have fought them in all quarters: personally and leading an army, in close quarters and in open field. A single Kull has the strength to break a man in half with some impunity, and our intelligence suggests that Nar Garzhvog has not yet brought out the full strength of his army. We have moved too soon, and we cannot tarry for fear of the opponent reading our maneuvers. Thus, I recommend that we invade the Spine with all our armies, and destroy the Urgals-"

"Mother, you do know that Roran Stronghammer leads a sizeable army doing just that", Palencar interrupted smoothly. "Ildarien and Nuada ride with him, and I am certain our armies are better spent defending the realm as required. What say you Lord Kelbor?", he asked briskly, indicating for a rough-set, pudgy general to speak. General Kelbor, Barristan knew, was of a ruthless reputation, willing to sacrifice any numbers of men to achieve his objective. Stories had it that he had sacrificed eight hundred men in the battle of Ithro Zhada for bait, made them hold out for days so Palencar could lead the army from without to encircle the enemies.

"A difficult quandary you pose, Majesty", replied Kelbor slowly, crinkling his forehead. "But I would agree with the Queen in this matter. The Urgals have not reacted as we thought they would to our challenge. Perhaps the Kingslayer's might forced them to reconsider, we do not know…but the truth is that we have shown much of our strength and position. Let us not allow complacency to creep that is my advice. The entire Royal army should be enough for the decimation of the Urgals."

Barristan struggled to hold in his words, quite irritated by Kelbor's overly aggressive approach to war. You may be Rider, Barristan, but they see you yet as an untested whelp. Under their veneer of respect simmers a disdain for your youth and lack of experience. In this, Dragons and men are the same. We do not allow younglings to command the whole, came Cirnathor's voice. Barristan clenched his hands into fists; why should his inexperience matter? He was trained to think critically by Elves and Riders beyond these transient men.

"Have you heard naught of what Ebrithil said, Lord Kelbor? What is it that you can do if you encounter the Shadow? He could destroy the army with the same ease as my master routed the Urgals! We must move cautiously, your Majesty", he spoke suddenly. Nasuada met his gaze and held it, and Barristan could see why she reigned as a queen among men for decades. There was no hesitation in that gaze, merely an absolute knowledge in its own rightness. He felt like he used to as a boy upon Aiedail, learning the histories taught by Invidia and Yaela.

"Caution is ideal, young Rider", said Nasuada into the silence that ensued. "But take the realm into account as well; soldiers in a time of war must ever be vetted and ready. Once they are released into the land, they must accomplish their task or risk chaos. We need direction and a decisive one. You have your master's prudence, but it was my daring that brought us to the gates of Uru-baen."

"With all due respect, Lady Nasuada", countered Barristan quietly. "This is not that war. We have no Galbatorix, no madman sitting in his palace. Our enemies are spectres, shadows in the darkness that are for the most part unseen. Why is it that-"

He stopped short as the tent flap opened suddenly to allow in a frantic soldier sweating profusely. Be very careful with Nasuada, Barristan. Eragon-elda shares deep ties with her, but they are tempered by a gap of a hundred years. Ideals may yet grind against each other, warned Cirnathor.

"Majesty, a Dragon as red as rubies and nearly as large as Saphira Brightscales has been spotted flying over the camp. The sergeant of Ballistae requires your permission to engage the intruder", panted out the messenger. Barristan stood up, reaching out with his mind even as he rushed out of the tent with hand upon the sword-hilt. High in the idyllic skies above Daret he could see the shape of a Dragon as described by the messenger, and he wasted no time in spreading his awareness to encompass it. Cirnathor wasted no time in joining minds with his, and together they threw the full force of their minds against the intruders.

Is this what your master taught you, boy, or have you been slow to learn?, asked a dryly amused voice as Barristan battered his mind repeatedly against the Rider's as he descended. It was to no avail, alike to throwing down-filled pillows to break an iron wall. Never had he met a defense quite as hard as this one, it seemed to be completely unyielding to his most vigorous mental thrusts.

Identify yourselves!, he demanded as the shadow of the approaching Rider grew larger. His eyes went round as he saw a second Black Dragon descend from the skies, following the flight of the glittering ruby Dragon. Identify or I will command the Ballistae to fire!, he yelled once more. A dry chuckling laugh filled his mind in response, and that laughter soon became audible to his ears as he turned to see Palencar laughing a full-throated laugh of delight. The King and his counsellors were staring with no small delight at the approaching Dragons and Rider, and Nasuada was smiling too…a smile that revealed her subtly hidden youthful beauty.

"Barristan my friend", said Palencar, coming to stand beside the bewildered young Rider even as the camp stirred once more, soldiers assembling outside their tents to behold the new arrival. "I have to say it is a truly beautiful thing to be reunited with family openly, with no fear we cannot face together. It has been a long time since I have been in the presence of my mother and father in this manner."

Murtagh Morzansson?, thought Barristan with a slight shiver of awe, remembering Eragon's tales of the man. In his Ebrithil's own words, Murtagh's resilience and strength of mind surpassed any Rider in hundreds of years…this was the man whose intervention had singlehandedly turned the course of the war against Galbatorix. The game grows more convoluted. Come hither, Cirnathor, he said to his Dragon, and from the south he could see his majestic grey Dragon take flight.

We must scry and hold conference with Ebrithil, Barristan, pondered Cirnathor. There is little we can do if both Murtagh and Nasuada influence their son. Aiedail's interests and Ebrithil's cannot be preserved by us alone.

It is sad that the two things have diverged, Cirnathor, sighed Barristan, watching the enormous Dragon Thorn land in a huge cloud of dust, followed by the equally massive black Dragon; they were both far larger than Cirnathor, and when he met their eyes he knew them to be far elder and more experienced. He and his Dragon would be little more than untried children to these Riders.

Perhaps they never were the same Barristan. Perhaps that is what Ebrithil hinted at in his stories of the son of Morzan, said Cirnathor as the Red Rider dismounted smoothly from high atop Thorn. But at the very least, the King has half his family by his side.

….

The sound of crickets and the chirping of nocturnal birds were the only sounds audible upon the shores of the Lake Isenstar. Moonlight fell in silvery shafts upon the glassy surface of the vast lake, a surface so still and perfect that it was a seeming window to an entire world. The quiet beauty of Alagaesia was most evident here, a beauty that made Ismira pause. Riders and Elves needed no fire for sight, for their vision was more acute than that of a ranging hawk's. They needed not fire for warmth…their bodies could withstand great cold with the aid of but a little Gramarye.

Yet she saw Laetri gesture delicately at the meadows, causing a tall continuous flame of a curious silver to manifest. "We might be seen, Laetri Svit-kona", she suggested quietly. Laetri nodded ever so slightly, her eyes not wavering from where she had been looking for the past quarter hour. Her silvery tresses gleamed in the moonlight like burnished ivory, and her pale skin shone stronger than ever in the nearly ethereal night. Matters of beauty had never been of concern to Ismira, not when her very survival was threatened for the most part of her life; but Laetri made her feel self-conscious in a manner she remembered feeling in her very early youth, long ago when she was at the cusp of womanhood.

"I remember Ragnar, Ismira. I remember him as a hatchling. I remember him watching these very flames for hours on end, fascinated by their colour and wondering how any fire of a color other than gold existed. He was a Dragon who held Eragon-elda's ideals closer to his heart other than any of his race…a most civilized mind who could grasp fully what the Riders were meant to be. He was wiser than even some Eldunari", said Laetri wistfully. Ismira stared entranced at her Uncle's elven companion, delighting in the details of Aiedail even though she showed it not.

The death of the Rider Leya's dragon saddened her, of course, and she shuddered to even think of such a separation from her own Belegroch. "It would have been kinder by far if Leya had been allowed to perish with her Dragon. I understand now what Murtagh meant by the unintended repercussions of Uncle Eragon's magic", she said a mite harshly, feeling an odd resentment take her at the notion of a Rider not being allowed to die with their Dragon. Laetri said nothing, her eyes never leaving Eragon's solitary profile outlined against the lake.

A small pang of guilt shot through Ismira as Eragon seemed to lower his head slightly at her words…even from this distance his grief was plain for her to see. He had spoken to no one after they had scryed the battle, merely making the most rapid arrangements to retrieve the fallen Leya from the field at Teirm. It was unsettling for her to watch her uncle, the famed Rider and slayer of Galbatorix, in the grips of such open grief.

"Do not be so quick to judge Eragon, Ismira", came the sharp voice of Arya from behind her. Ismira shivered ever so slightly at the menace in the forest-green eyes of the once Elven Queen, beautiful and dangerous all at once. She knew of the resentment Arya held for her, despite the circumstances that had warranted such a thing. That same resentment blazed openly in Arya's face as she met Ismira's gaze squarely.

"He bleeds for every soul that has suffered in his stead. He grants mercy to everyone that he thinks deserves it, even you have been a recipient of it. You cannot feel his soul as I do", she said, the menace draining out of her voice to be replaced by a deep strain of sadness, "you cannot feel it trying to tear itself apart again. It is Laetri alone who holds his debilitating grief at bay for my soul's joining with him is far too new to be disturbed. He needs not your abjuration, but your acceptance and solidarity."

Ismira fell silent at these words, knowing them to be true. We observed the aftermath of the battle too, Ismira. Now I know why Saphira is the greatest Dragon alive, came Belegroch's voice to her from the town of Daret at the far north of the spine. She had been greatly relieved to hear that Murtagh's vouching for her Dragon had been enough to prevent misunderstandings, and that Belegroch had been left alone for the most part.

Sahloknir and Firnen were as fearsome, she remembered admiringly, taking great satisfaction in the revenge of the Dragons at their comrade's death. The ground around Teirm burned for three miles in all directions, a field of wrath and fire that was testimony to the strength of the Dragons. "I hope he will be alright, Laetri Svit-Kona", she murmured to the silver-haired elf. "The intrigue at Gilead will be unforgiving to those who cannot outplay even the Elvenkind. My old master's spies are ancient shadows whose existence was unknown even to Galbatorix or even Vrael himself. To root them out will take much more than intimidation or guile."

"Indeed."

Ismira blinked, seeing suddenly that Eragon had disappeared from his stance in the midst of the damp shores of Isenstar. She had almost not noticed the soft flash of indigo light behind her, indicating his arrival by magic even at this distance. She averted her eyes slightly as Laetri met Eragon's gaze; she felt it a violation of privacy even if she looked upon them in their wordless communication. She had never seen anything of that like, two beings able to share their entire lives and thoughts with naught but a mere glance. It was far more intense than a physical joining, which Ismira was no stranger to.

"I have mourned for Ragnar", Eragon continued, intertwining hands almost unconsciously with Laetri and Arya, "Ildarien makes even now for Teirm, where our Dragons stand guard over Leya and Ragnar. If it were not for the magic imbued in my ring Aren, Leya would have perished. Perhaps it would have been kinder if she had, but that is not the shape of the world now", he said, looking directly at Ismira, who refused to look away.

"I spoke with Dathedr, Eragon", Arya said. "The dwarves have arrived at Ellesmera along with the emissary of Palencar. The Surdan ambassador is nearly there also. The races will start making compacts even now to deal with the rising threat. Will Yaela speak for the interest of the Riders there?", she asked.

"Yaela is skilled with negotiations. Not as much as Nuada perhaps, but she will suffice. What said Blodhgarm, Laetri?", he queried.

"He agrees with Umaroth-elda's advice not to stir Aiedail with news of the first Rider to fall in a hundred years. But I counselled him to ready the full Riders quietly against all aggression. Dusan was greatly distraught at the news, as expected", said Laetri softly. "He flies here even now to care for her. He is quite convinced she will follow Ragnar into the void and he will truly not allow her to do so."

"This might well pose a problem", said Eragon as Laetri concluded. Arya's face looked puzzled for an instant, but cleared rapidly as Eragon looked at her. Ismira's confusion must have been apparent to Eragon, for he explained: "Barristan cares greatly for Leya. But Dusan cares for her too and he is leery of Barristan's youth. This might not bode well for her recovery. Losing a Dragon is an abyss that is beyond imagination. She will need the support of the entire order to regain sanity."

"We must put our faith in Ildarien. You know he is capable, Eragon-elda", said Laetri reassuringly.

"So he is", agreed Eragon solemnly. "Gil'ead is not far", he continued, looking towards where the city shone magnificent in its night illuminations, "it will be much easier for us to use the night to our advantage, where the humans are lacking. Are the spells of disguise in place, Arya?"

"They are", replied Arya confidently. "It is a spell of suggestion, Eragon, not of disguise. It will escape detection by my brethren even as it deceives the humans."

"You will aid Laetri in holding the second layer, Ismira. There will no doubt be mages who will seek to penetrate our disguise if detected; it will be your task to befuddle their minds. Such magicians, I am sure, will not be many…but they will be there. I am sure you are more than equal to the task", said Eragon with certainty, and Ismira nodded. She knew what perils Gil'ead hid even today…it was a city teeming with arcane talent Palencar did not know existed. She had interacted with the underbelly of Gil'ead more than once over the decades. She looked at Eragon curiously, one question flaring in her mind.

"What will you do, Uncle Eragon? If you use magic, they will most certainly detect your presence."

"This is true", replied Eragon calmly. "The ones who will be able to see through both curtains of deception clearly will be the most dangerous. I will be ready to enter their minds with main force, and wrest from them their secrets. Enough", he said, raising his chin toward Gil'ead. "We must proceed. I intend to be safely ensconced in an accommodation before the morrow dawns, whence we can begin laying nets for the Shadow. Shall we run?", he asked, a hint of delight blooming slightly in his grief ridden gaze.

"We shall", Laetri said.

Tell Murtagh everything Belegroch. I will fade out of the mindpool for now. You know how Styrax can pick up my thoughts, said Ismira to her Dragon, joining Eragon and his companions in their easy lope that was faster even than the gallop of most human horses. Perhaps that is wise, Belegroch replied, Styrax is unpredictable, and he never runs out of people to kill. I do not think he will risk facing Eragon just to kill you.

One of the many reasons I chose to stay, as you well know, said Ismira, watching Laetri and Arya run alongside Eragon in perfectly matched strides. In the moonlight they looked like angels sporting and they ran with hands clasped still in Eragon's. Farewell, Belegroch. I will contact you again in a few days' time after I am certain Styrax is not here, she said, regretfully fading out of Belegroch's consciousness. Gil'ead loomed ahead in their vision, but Eragon ran ahead with his companions, seemingly unconcerned of the sentries patrolling the massive gates to the city.

She wondered how they would obtain entrance.

It is simple, Laetri's voice whispered in her head. We walk in, like good citizens of the Broddring Kingdom.